


comey my homey

by orphan_account



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Awkward Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, the obligatory 'i'm kinda turned on by comey during this testimony' fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 15:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The testimony is at seven a.m. PST and Lovett shows up at his door fifteen minutes in advance.





	comey my homey

The testimony is at seven a.m. PST and Lovett shows up at his door fifteen minutes in advance, a bag of sugary treats in one hand and a bright smile on his face. He looks way too chipper this early in the morning.

Meanwhile, Tommy’s dressed in his pajamas and he’s still got his toothbrush in his mouth. He pulls it out and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “What… what?”

Lovett rolls his eyes and pushes past him, plopping the bag on the counter as he grabs the TV remote and raises the volume. “Fuck, you’re watching this on _C-SPAN_?”

Tommy spits out the remainder of the toothpaste and rinses out in the kitchen sink, drying his face with his shirt. He shrugs. “I, uh, thought I should be nonpartisan.”

Lovett scoffs. “Fuck nonpartisanship, we’re watching this shit on fucking MSNBC.”

“Straight shooter,” Tommy mumbles under his breath. Lovett throws a packet of Reese’s at his head and he barely catches it before it hits the ground. “What’re you doing here, even?”

“What, I can’t come and see my boyfriend whenever I want?” Lovett asks with an arch of his brow. He waits a couple of seconds after Tommy gives him a blank look and lets out a sigh. “Fine. Jon and Emily are having a sort of watch-party and they didn’t invite us so I thought we could have our own watch-party and then show off how much fun we’re having without them.”

Tommy doesn’t bat an eye at this, because all of this is classic Lovett. “Uh-huh,” he says, nodding slowly. “And you didn’t think to, I dunno, ask me about this?”

Lovett takes the bag out of his hands and plops down on the couch, feet briefly in the air until they settle on the coffee table. He rips the wrapper open and pops a candy in his mouth. “Why would I ask when you were gonna say yes anyway?”

 _For proprietary’s sake?_ Tommy thinks of countering, but he knows it would fall on deaf ears. Lovett barely cared about propriety in the West Wing – why would he care about it in a dingy home in LA?

He pours himself a bowl of cereal and takes his seat beside Lovett, leaned forward and staring at the TV screen. “Shit,” he says through a bite, “Preet Bharara is there?”

“Looks like they’re bringing in all of the greats,” Lovett hums. “Maybe Sally Yates and Susan Rice are there too.” He pulls out his phone and leans over to Tommy. “Smile for the camera, babe.”

Tommy grins through a mouthful of milk and Lovett purses his lips in a faux-serious expression. He sits up straight and types a caption. “Having the time of our lives…”

“Eating cereal and peoplewatching, yup.” Tommy lets out a laugh as Lovett elbows his side, fighting back a smile.

They both settle down by time Comey comes onscreen, volume raised to almost deafening levels as Burr starts to call the meeting to order. The man gets about three seconds into his opening statements when Lovett groans, “Oh god, just ask him about the pee tape already!”

Tommy raises a brow. “You know they’re not going to do that, right?”

“Stop shitting all over my hopes and dreams, Tommy,” Lovett huffs. “I’m only aloud to do that to you… Oh, wait, shut up, Mark Warner’s about to speak.”

“Friend of the pod,” Tommy hums. He nearly spits out his cereal a couple of moments later. “Shit, did he just say ‘straight shooter’?”

Lovett grins. “Mark, you are _definitely_ getting a t-shirt for this,” he says, pausing a moment, “as soon as you’re done with your ‘previously on America’ segment.”

“And here I was thinking the grandstanding would be from the other friend of the pod, Jim Comey.”

Tommy sets his bowl down on the table and leans back, arm stretched behind Lovett’s shoulders as he listens intently to Comey’s opening statements. They’re different than what was submitted, as the man himself points out, and they’re mostly directed at his former employees at the FBI.

“I am so sorry that I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to you properly,” Comey says, a fraction of his pain evident in his voice and in his eyes. Tommy’s about to point this out to Lovett when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees him sniffle quietly.

“Lovett,” Tommy says slowly, “are you _crying_ right now?”

Lovett rubs his eyes and wipes his nose. “He didn’t get to say goodbye, Tommy.”

“Aw, come here.” He can’t keep the slight smirk off his face – it’s kind of fucking adorable that Lovett feels so strongly for a man he once hated – as he pulls him in close and kisses his head. Then Burr starts his questioning and Lovett shoves him aside so he can sit up straight and listen.

“Are we playing any game where we take a shot when something happens?” Tommy asks, as soon as Mike Flynn’s name comes up.

Lovett immediately shushes him. “I’m trying to watch and get angry at the Republicans for having stupid questions.”

“Of course you are,” Tommy says, giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He’s not really angry though – this is Lovett in his element, and honestly, he’s loving it.

The atmosphere entirely changes the moment Comey says, plain as day, “I was honestly concerned that he might lie about the nature of our meeting.” He, as in, the President of the United States. As in, the Director of the FBI thought the President of the United States might lie about meeting with him. As in, this country is royally fucked.

“Oh my god,” Tommy says. “Oh my god.”

“I know,” Lovett sighs. “I don’t even know why it’s happening. It just started, too, completely out of the blue.”

Tommy blinks. “Wait, what?” he turns his head to find that Lovett isn’t looking at the screen anymore. He’s looking in his lap, at the growing tent in his pants.

“Oh my god,” Tommy says again. “Oh my _god_.” He takes a moment to process this image. “Lovett… are you getting a fucking _boner_ from watching this hearing?”

Lovett looks at him, his face slightly pink with embarrassment. “Well, I mean – he’s kinda cute and he’s got this hot voice and he’s talking about how the President is a dotty old racist and, well, it’s hitting all my buttons.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy repeats, fighting back laughter. “Oh, my _god_.”

Lovett swats his arm. He looks from the TV where Warner is still questioning Comey, to his growing hard-on, to Tommy’s forcibly and poorly restrained face. “Tommy,” he says, voice serious, “I need to pay attention to this hearing. I can’t keep thinking about how fucking hard I’m getting.”

“I’m not fucking you while Jim Comey testifies.”

“Blowjob?”

Tommy thinks about it for a moment. “All right, fine,” he concedes. “But I want some Sherri’s Berries in exchange for this.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” Lovett hums. He’s already lifting his pants and pulling down his underwear, dick hard and jutting out almost immediately. “Hurry, I think something important might be happening soon.”

Tommy briefly laments on the fact that hey, he just brushed his teeth a few moments ago – but then again, this is his boyfriend, whom he loves, and love is all about sacrifice. And besides, his toothbrush is still in the kitchen sink.

He gets on his knees in front of Lovett and spares no time in rubbing his hand up and down his shaft, getting him a little harder before leaning forward and taking him in his mouth.

Lovett lets out a breath and his hands immediately tangle themselves into Tommy’s hair, tugging it by the fistfuls.

Tommy closes his eyes. He rubs gently at the sides of Lovett’s thighs as he hollows out his cheeks and begins to suck. His tongue circles around and he tastes salty sweat and precum as he takes him in deeper.

“This is a very disturbing development,” Comey says on TV and Tommy can’t help but think, _I can’t believe Jim Comey is kinkshaming my boyfriend._

“Stop laughing,” Lovett says, voice breathless. He cuts off into a moan and his grip on Tommy tightens. “Oh, fuck, do that again, please, please.”

Tommy does. His tongue flicks around again and he teases the base of his dick before sliding over to his balls, and Lovett’s moans are music to his ears.

The back of his throat feels a little strained and his eyes are staring to tear up a little and his hand is getting a little tired from rubbing and he really wants to pay attention to this testimony too. And then Lovett throws his head back and Tommy quickly removes his mouth before he spills into his hands.

Lovett’s leaned back against the couch, hair damped down a little with his eyes still on the TV. He looks down at Tommy and his eyes soften ever so slightly. “You know,” he says, “none of my other boyfriends would ever be comfortable with doing this.”

Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles. “Well,” he says, “I guess I’m just special.”

“I guess you are,” Lovett smiles. He clears his throat. “Do you want me to…” he makes a jerking-off motion with one of his hands.

Tommy considers it, very briefly, whether or not he wants to head down the slippery slope of getting hard during congressional hearings, when Lovett looks back up at the TV screen and lets out an angry groan.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” he huffs. “You have the fired former Director of the FBI before you and you’re going to make fucking jokes about fucking _legal writing_?”

Tommy rolls his eyes and stands up. “I think I’m just gonna brush my teeth again,” he says.

Lovett absently nods, lips pursed as he sits forward and rests his chin on his fist. His pants are still down and his softening dick is still out and staining parts of Tommy’s couch, but Tommy doesn’t really care.

He ruffles Lovett’s hair and walks off.

“Bring back some more snacks,” Lovett calls after him. “Oh, fuck you, Senator Risch – Idaho is a garbage state!” He grabs a handful of Reese’s and throws them at the screen.

Tommy shakes his head. “This is my life,” he mumbles quietly. _But I wouldn’t trade it for the world._

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who want it, [the Comey testimony](https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/08/us/politics/senate-hearing-transcript.html?_r=0).


End file.
